


I (Think I) Wanna Marry You

by kissesfromkrug



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Dorks in Love, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, almost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-08 17:13:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14110155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissesfromkrug/pseuds/kissesfromkrug
Summary: Connor definitely shouldn’t have "listened to his heart’s" song advice.





	I (Think I) Wanna Marry You

**Author's Note:**

> Not for profit, fictional; feel free to point out any typos. :)
> 
> There just aren’t enough of these out there. Bless this ship, I don’t do it justice.
> 
> Title and inspiration from Bruno Mars' "Marry You".
> 
> A lil short 'n' sweet thing I thought I’d publish just for kicks.

Connor stretches his arms up and legs out, elbows and ankles cracking satisfyingly loudly. They really don’t need this many blankets at the end of June, but Mitch has a tendency to get cold at night. Speaking of, he’s curled in a ball next to Connor, radiating heat and probably wearing the tiniest hint of a smile.

The sunlight illuminates their city outside from where they forgot to close the shutters, reflecting off buildings and into their cozy apartment. He yawns and rolls to see Mitch, eyes half-open, staring at him with a faint smile, just how Connor had predicted.

"Weirdo," Mitch says when Connor just stares back.

"You were the one watching me sleep, I’m not the weirdo," Connor sighs, rubbing his eyes and scratching at a spot on his jaw. Mitch just leans forward and kisses him softly, bumping Connor’s cheek with his nose before he pulls away and uncurls himself, stretching his legs down the bed.

"Gotta get up and eat," he yawns, sliding out of bed and bouncing up with an inhuman amount of energy. Connor nods blearily and spreads his arms to the side, searching for his phone under the blankets.

"Where’d it go?"

"What go?"

"Marns, my phone, you had it last night," Connor says, sitting up and rooting around in the sheets with more fervor. "Where is it?" He rolls out of bed and spreads his hands wide under the comforter, finding nothing but white sheets and soft blankets.

"Not my responsibility," Mitch answers cheekily, turning over one pillow and shrugging. "I dunno."

"You’re not even looking."

"It’s not mine though," he shrugs, and Connor huffs again.

"You were messing with it and took a bunch of photos of me," Connor accuses, pointing at Mitch before he can speak up. He’s not very threatening, evidenced by the way Mitch chews his lip in an effort not to laugh when Connor yawns again. "No, I know you did, I woke up halfway through the photo shoot and you blinded me with the flash."

Mitch winces and shoves his hands in the pockets of his plaid pajama pants. "Oops," he shrugs. At least he manages to look somewhat guilty.

"Yeah, oops." Connor has his arms crossed, well-worn pout on his face, and Mitch’s lips turn up in a smile.

"Go like, make breakfast or something, cutie, I’ll find it," he says, pinching Connor’s cheek and kissing the spot before getting on his knees to look under the bed. Connor scrunches up his face and leaves, very intent on not doing what Mitch asked, even though they both know he always does.

Connor grabs the pancake mix out of the cupboard knowing full well he most likely will fuck _something_ up. It’s the thought that counts, eh?

He’s halfway through stirring the bowl of ingredients when he hears a thud upstairs. Mitch is clumsy off-ice—something Connor can relate to—and drops things enough that it’s become a normalcy whenever they’re home together.

Mitch starts hollering "O Canada" as he sprints down the stairs, and Connor glances over at the mini flag sticking out of their potted plant on the windowsill.

"Davo," Mitch says, out of breath and looking worried as he enters the kitchen. "Davo, what the fuck?"

The smell of batter can’t be _that_ bad, can it? Connor frowns and looks up.

Mitch holds his phone out, blue case obvious as he presses Connor’s contact info, and—fuck, Connor hadn’t even considered the fact that Mitch would call it, oh shit oh shit oh—

 _Cause it’s a beautiful night, we’re lookin' for somethin' dumb to do / Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you_ blasts out of Connor’s phone in Mitch’s other hand, and Connor drops the spoon and feels his face and neck burn red.

"I’m sorry," he mumbles, taking a step back from Mitch when the song finally dies away. "I know it’s weird, but I just thought it was—we talked about it a few times so like, I didn’t mean—"

"You regret it?" 

Connor shuts up immediately. He shakes his head, mouth opening and closing like a fish stranded on land. "No," he gets out, voice cracking. "No. I mean it. But I just thought you would—"

"You think I’m upset at you?" Mitch interrupts, setting their phones down and sliding across the floor to Connor. "You think I’m mad?" He strokes a thumb across Connor’s cheekbone once they’re face to face, looking up into his eyes with a face that is simultaneously worried and excited.

Connor thinks he might feel the exact same way—with just a bit more worry.

"Baby, I’m so—" Mitch closes his eyes and leans his forehead on Connor’s, matching their inhales and exhales perfectly. "I’m so fucking happy."

"What?" The word is but a whisper falling from Connor's lips, and Mitch thumbs at his chin before kissing him so sweetly Connor thinks he’ll melt into a puddle of sugary goodness.

"I’m so happy. Of course I’d say yes, sweetheart," Mitch whispers, mouth still on Connor’s. "I couldn’t dream of being without you."

Connor grips onto Mitch with shaking hands, holding him as close as physically possible. "Well that’s—" He swallows hard as Mitch presses delicate kisses to the side of his neck. "That’s perfect."

Mitch’s smile is the biggest he’s ever seen it when he leans back. "So," he asks cheerily, lacing his arms around Connor’s waist, "Where’s our honeymoon gonna be?"

Connor laughs delightedly, and Mitch gives him a butterfly kiss on his cheek, blue eyes shining with joy—and maybe a couple happy tears too, though he’d never admit it.

"I haven’t even proposed yet," Connor beams, "But I heard Aruba is pretty fucking great."

**Author's Note:**

> Wow this is. This is REALLY short. Wow. Whoa. Wowwwww...... :0


End file.
